


Twisted Rope

by Unfuckwithable



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfuckwithable/pseuds/Unfuckwithable
Summary: “Alright, honey.”She came into his room like a fresh summer breeze, her smile reminded him of a radiant light and dancing leaves in the sun – although it was long dark outside.“I’m off now. Don’t wait up for me.”Dark eyes studied her from head to toe and his first instinct to be happy to see her faded quickly. She was wearing a dress – one that was tight around the hips and showed off her legs— and other parts. And she was wearing make-up. Even her hair looked extra nice tonight.As if struck by lightning, he sat up.“Mother.”





	Twisted Rope

 

 

 

“Alright, honey.”

She came into his room like a fresh summer breeze, her smile reminded him of a radiant light and dancing leaves in the sun – although it was long dark outside.

“I’m off now. Don’t wait up for me.”

Dark eyes studied her from head to toe and his first instinct to be happy to see her faded quickly. She was wearing a dress – one that was tight around the hips and showed off her legs— and other parts. And she was wearing make-up. Even her hair looked extra nice tonight.

As if struck by lightning, he sat up.

“Mother.”

That one simple word was enough for her to pause and he watched how she slowly turned around while her curls danced along to a slow, silent tango.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

It was a simple question, one that might’ve expressed worry but deep within was buried something entirely different. She knew what he was going to say.

And maybe that’s why she hadn’t put on a coat in the first place.

“Where are you going?”

Again, this question could’ve been mistaken for worry, but Norma was well aware of those bittersweet undertones. Jealousy.

And maybe that’s why she had made an effort to tell him goodbye like this.

“Out.”

She was playing with him now; enjoying it, even. Sapphire eyes observed how brown ones narrowed ever so slightly. She knew Norman’s pulse was racing.

“With—?”

“With Christine, Norman! Jesus!” She half-laughed and rolled her eyes.

It was their game as old as time. Both of them were excellent players.

“With Christine?” Norman asked, his features and voice dripping with incredulity. “You’re going out with Christine? With a /woman/? And you dress up like a—”

“Like a /what/?!”

Norma’s question was sharp, just like her stare and she no longer reminded him of a quiet summer breeze. Suddenly, she seemed like an unknown force; one that was stepping closer; towering over him. All he could do was swallow and stare.

“Like a WHAT, Norman?!”

Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes while her hands flew to her hips.

“Nothing, mother.”

“Reeeally?” She huffed and Norman watched how her eyebrows shot up. Her chuckle hung in the air like a forerunner of things to come – bad things.

“Mother—,” he, therefore, tried again but didn’t get very far.

“Like a /slut/, Norman?!” She asked provokingly, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Is that what you wanted to say?”

Yes, that was absolutely what he had thought and they both knew it.

“NO, mother!” Norman suddenly shouted, running right into mama’s trap – almost literally. With a jolt, he was up on his feet.

“No?” She just couldn’t help herself.

Norma Bates was a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, controlled by an ocean of mixed feelings; paradoxical feelings sometimes – just like now. On the one hand, she knew she was provoking him and she had exactly known what she was doing when she walked into his room. Yet, on the other hand, she was telling herself that Norman’s reaction was ridiculous; that he was being dramatic; that she had simply wanted to tell him goodnight.

And maybe that’s exactly how it was.

“No?!” She asked again, fueling his fire. “Then /what/, Norman?!”

“OKAY, yes, /fine/!” Norman suddenly hissed.

He reminded her of bursting flames – flames she had poured gasoline into.

“You just always say you have so much to do and so little time—” ‘And that I am the only one you need.’ “—but suddenly you’re friends with this woman we—” Always ‘we’. “—only met last week and voilà, now you have time and are no longer tired from all the work at the motel?!”

And there it was, the game changer. They had perfected this dance over the years and now it was Norma’s turn to make her move. There were only so many steps to choose from; only so many rhythms to break.

“’Voilà’?!” She parroted, then snorted. “Don’t be dramatic, Norman! You are overreacting! I—”

His turn to break the rhythm.

“Oh, now /I/ am being dramatic?! Says the one who won’t let me go out to /study/ with—”

“STUDY!” Norma jumped in with a high laugh which made it very clear she wasn’t buying his shit. “These girls who came to pick you up weren’t exactly dressed like a study group, now were they?!”

“Oh, you mean they were dressed like /you/, mother?!”

Silence.

Stares collided, lips pressed into a thin line, teeth gritted.

“You know what, Norman?!” It was Norma’s voice that cut the silence like a hot knife through butter. “I am not having this discussion with you right now. I am going OUT—” With that last word leaving her lips in an angry shout, she turned on her heels, making her way down the stairs. “—DRESSED LIKE HOWEVER THE HELL I WANNA DRESS!”

“FINE!” He shouted back, running after her but stopped at the top of the stairs. There was no point. “YOU’LL SEE WHERE THIS GETS YOU!”

Who was the mother now?

 

• • •

 

He texted her. Once, twice, … Nothing. He even tried to call her. Nothing.

God, this was ridiculous!  
SHE was ridiculous!

Why would she leave him like this?! Why would she make him wonder—worry?! Lord knows what this woman was getting herself into again. How did she not see this?! People always took advantage of her and he needed to protect her from that—from them! He should be with her now, not some—random woman and God knows who else. … Ha! No, she hadn’t dressed up for this Christine woman. Oh, no. She hadn’t. He knew. He was sure about that.

Norman’s thoughts kept running away with him like wild horses on an open prairie while the TV was quietly trying to catch his attention with black and white figures dancing in the rain – to no avail.

The hours dropped slowly like honey from a spoon and at some point, with an exhausted sigh, Norman sunk back into the cushions of the couch. He checked his phone one final time before he fell asleep.

 

• • •

 

And there she was, in all her glory.

“Norman, what are you doing?”

This time, her voice was soft. She turned her head in order to look up to him.

His dark eyes raked over her body—over her restrained body. She was wearing a dark-brown leather skirt, black heels and a blouse that almost matched the color of her hair. She looked so beautiful – especially like this. Chained up.

The work of an expert.

His work.

“I have to punish you, mother.”

His voice was calm and with the moves of a sultry snake, it made its way towards her, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Why?”

It was so beautiful to watch her wonder; to watch her struggle against the tight knots of the rope which had been masterfully wrapped around her feet, her ankles, her wrists, her breasts; her body. But she didn’t struggle, not /really/. She wasn’t even trying.

He knew.

Because she wanted this.

As much as he did.

That’s why he had seen this vision right before he had blacked out at school, right?

This was supposed to happen.

But not in a vision this time.

“Because you need to learn that your actions have consequences, mother. You can’t just go out like that whenever it pleases you. You have to think about the consequences.”

“And—” Her voice was so soft and her whole body stilled as if she was getting ready. “—what are the consequences now, Norman?”

…

“Norman?”

…

“Norman?”

…

“Hey, honey?”

 

• • •

 

“Mother?”

With a jolt, he sat up, staring wide-eyed into the lovely, smiling face of his mother.

“Oh, honey, honey,” Norma suddenly shushed, running a hand through his hair as she sat down next to him on the couch. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“I— I—,” he stammered, feeling his cheeks flush.

Her cold hand found its way right there.

“You’re warm, too, sweetheart. Come here, come here.”

Her soothing voice didn’t exactly make it better but as she pulled him in, she laid back on the couch, pulling him with her until his head rested against the sound of her beating heart.

None of them spoke. The only sound he heard was the life dancing quietly inside her chest and the only thing he felt were her caring hands gently brushing his back.

None of them said a word— until he deeply sighed.

“Feeling better now?” Norma asked, stretching her neck to place a kiss on the top of his head.

He nodded. What else was he supposed to do?

“What was the dream about?”

Suddenly, Norman was very aware of where exactly he was— or what his face was pressing against. Quickly, he pulled back and sat up, maneuvering her calves to lay in his lap. Safety distance and yet, not too distant.

“The dream,” he began and chuckled quietly, shrugging. “I don’t— I don’t really remember.”

She didn’t buy it. “It’s okay, Norman. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, really, mother! I don’t remember!”

It didn’t go unnoticed that he emphasized his statement with more force than necessary and so, Norma shrugged it off.

“Okay.”

He sighed and dropped his hands onto her bare shins. Subconsciously, he began to draw small circles there with his fingertips which elicited a melodic giggle.

“That tickles,” she said and scooted further into the couch.

Now, her knees were in his lap.  
His gaze shifted to the side ever so slightly.  
He could see her scar.

“So, how was it? The party, I mean.”

“We didn’t go to a party, Norman,” Norma chuckled. “Hey, why did you stop?”

The question caught him off guard and he had to look at her before he finally got it.

Drawing circles on her skin. Right.

“Oh, sorry, mother.”

Back to it, then.

“We went out for a drink or two and talked shit about the musical team all night. Boooy, do I now know stories about these women. You wouldn’t believe! One of them—”

Cut off by her own gasp, Norma swallowed the rest of her words.

His hands.

His hands had wandered higher.

They had found her scar.

She looked up.

Mother and son – their stares collided.

His fingertips kept softly caressing the inside of her thigh.

What was he doing?

What was he doing?!

He couldn’t help himself.

Dark eyes bored into blue ones and he waited for something. A sign? She was up on her elbows now, staring at him. But she didn’t speak. Not a word. And his hand was still drawing circles. Higher. And higher. Her skin was so soft – the scar wasn’t, but he was long past the scar. His pulse quickened. What about hers?

He watched how she inhaled, sharply; how her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

That’s when he knew.

Just like in his dream.

She wanted this.

And then, she finally said his name.

“Norman.”

…

“Norman?”

“Yes, mother?”

 

• • •

 

“Norman, wake up!”

“What?!”

“Jesus, Norman, I told you not to wait up for me!”

With an annoyed sigh, Norma walked over to the TV and switched it off.

“What?!” Her brows shot up and her hands flew to her hips just like a few hours before. “Have you seen a ghost?! Get up now!” She gestured wildly. “And get your ass to bed. And I swear to God, if you start lecturing me again at 2 am, I will—”

“I won’t!” Norman quickly invaded. He swallowed hard, got up and nodded. “Goodnight, mother.”

Blue eyes followed him with a confused look. “O—kaaay?”

Was she getting the passive-aggressive treatment now?

“Great, just great,” she muttered to herself and rolled her eyes. “Just peachy. … Whatever.”

She was tired. She really was. She had a great night out and a little too much to drink. And she was still upset about their fight earlier. It really was time for bed. With yet another sigh she realized that the lamp at the end of the couch was still on and so, she walked over to switch it off, almost stumbling over something that had been laying on the ground, forgotten.

“What the hell—?”

Those three little anti-prayer words slipped from Norma Bates’ lips with an aftertaste of disbelief. In her hands, she held a rope.

“Oh, Norman, what did you do…?”

 

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know.  
But she knew she had to.  
She would take care of this tomorrow.  
She /had/ to take care of this—  
Of him.  
She was his mother after all.

 


End file.
